


Lie to Me

by LyraGranite



Category: Final Fantasy XIII Series, Final Fantasy XIII-2
Genre: F/M, Sexual Content, also lots of sadness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-14
Updated: 2013-02-14
Packaged: 2017-11-29 06:17:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/683792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LyraGranite/pseuds/LyraGranite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hope and Lightning meet once more in Vallis Media before the end. XIII-2 spoilers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lie to Me

Hope’s work engineering the new Cocoon was all but complete. It had taken almost longer than he could stand, and some days he wondered how he’d never thought to bring a co-worker along when he first came to 400 AF. But then something about that thought seemed upsetting, and he left it alone. Finally, though, he was finished. Every contingency had been planned for, every detail of his blueprints was perfect, all the technology proven.

The time capsule was being prepared for another use, and it would be ready for him in just a day and a half. The whole of Academia seemed conscious of his upcoming departure. It felt like the city was holding its breath, torn between cheering his journey forward and trying to hold him back, keep him close. Journalists from Academia’s newspapers clamored at The Academy’s doors, begging for a picture or an interview before he had to go.

He had to get out.

So Hope had stolen a bike and flown, not thinking about destination or direction but just trying to get _away_. When he started paying attention to his surroundings again, he was above the Archylte Steppe. He used to make this flight regularly, when he was still a teenager living in the settlement they had erected below Cocoon. Back then, Hope had flown across the Steppe to their old campground in the Vallis Media ravine whenever everything got to be too much.

Especially after the last of his friends had disappeared into one of Etro’s damned gates, that stupid camp had been his talisman. Here was where the six of them had decided again to keep fighting. Here was where Alexander had emerged. Here was where Hope had learned that he would not be left behind, would not _allow_ himself to be left behind. When he came here, he could believe that he was still moving forward, even if he did have to take the slow path.

400 years later, the junk they had used to build their camp site had rusted and rotted back into the earth. The plant life was the same, though, as was the river that ran through the bottom of the ravine. He could just hear the high keening of a Cie’th Waystone in the distance, over the sound of the water.

The pillar of light that stood in the center of the clearing, however, was new. Hope landed his bike and walked a careful circle around it. A time distortion. He had seen them several times before over the years, and they had never been good news. Wherever these pillars appeared, people tended to disappear. It would be a fine thing for Hope to be lost to a paradox now, when all his work was so close to fruition.

He couldn’t stay near this thing any longer than necessary. He would have to find somewhere else to clear his head. Hope had begun to circle back to his bike when the distortion suddenly flashed. Hope covered his eyes against the light, and when it faded the distortion was gone. In its place stood a human figure facing the place his bike was parked. The sunlight glinted off the figure’s armored back as she sighed at the bike.

“Don’t tell me I’m here to see that idiot,” she grumbled.

Hope let out a breath. “Light,” he said quietly, “are you really here?”

She turned towards him, and yes, it really was her. Hope felt a giddy smile spread across his face. He was closer to thirty now than twenty, but she looked exactly the same as she had the last day he’d seen her. There was a sort of exhaustion lingering in the line of her brow, but her lips had curved up ever so slightly, and the set of her shoulders was as proud and unbroken as it had ever been, and her hair shone in the sun.

Hope found himself stepping forward almost without thought, covering the space between them in a few large steps and embracing her in the same movement. He buried his face in her hair.

“Hope,” Lightning said, bringing up her arms to gingerly return his embrace. “I’m glad to see you.”

Hope released her and stepped back, chuckling. “Are you?” he teased, “Or are you just relieved I’m not Snow?”

“That too,” she admitted mischievously. “I remember this place,” she said after a moment. “A lot happened here.” Thinking back to that time and how much had changed since prompted a rush of pride and fondness for Hope. But now, she supposed, was not the time to be thinking about the past. “I couldn’t tell from Valhalla where that distortion would lead. When are we?”

“Four-hundred and three AF,” said Hope. “Late summer.” He looked at a point on the ground between them. “You know, I’m going forward again.” Lightning gave a small nod. “The time capsule will be ready in a couple of days,” he elaborated. “They’ll wake me again about a month before Cocoon is meant to fall. So,” he huffed a bit nervously, “for good or ill, all of this is almost over for me.” He raised his gaze to Lightning’s. “And you? Can you come home after that?”

Lightning looked away, unsure of how to answer. She wasn’t yet certain how all of this would end, but she had seen enough to know that she… “It’s not clear to me yet,” she demurred. “I think… you will see me.” She smiled again, but it was weak and insincere. “Don’t give up, alright? Promise me you’ll keep fighting.”

Hope’s stomach gave an unpleasant lurch. “Light,” he said emphatically, “I will _never_ stop fighting. Not until all of us are together again.” He took her hand in both of his. “You won’t either, right? So everything _will_ work out.” He searched her eyes for some sort of reassurance. Lightning’s mouth tightened as she kept her gaze averted. “I see,” he said after a moment. He squeezed her hand involuntarily. A fear for the future, a sort of despair began to roil in his gut, but he pushed it away and forced a smile. “Yes, I promise. I’ll keep fighting no matter what happens in the future.”

His voice was low and intense, and Lightning felt it all the way up her spine. She looked up to meet his eyes, brought her free hand up to stroke the side of his face. “You’ve grown up so much,” she said sadly.

Hope laughed humorlessly. “I should hope so. I’m older than you now, from one point of view.” He smiled softly. “What do you think? Am I strong enough to protect you yet?” Lightning didn’t answer, and his smile turned wistful. He released her hand and moved one of his to cover the hand that still rested on his face, smoothing the other across her jaw and bringing his forehead to hers. “Lightning,” he breathed, squeezing his eyes shut. “I’ve missed you _so much_.”

Lightning couldn’t speak, even to agree. The endless, intangible years in Valhalla with nothing to do but watch or fight for her life were suddenly a gag in her throat, her shaky, uncertain knowledge of the fight she would face when she returned a weight that rooted her feet to the ground. Her free hand grasped at Hope’s upper sleeve, fingers clenching tight. Hope flushed and made to move away again, but Lightning stopped him. “Please.” She splayed her hand across his shoulder, burying her face in his collar.

His hands wrapped tightly around her waist, holding her close. Hope let out a small, pained noise and fell back into the grass, pulling her with him. Their legs tangled, the armor over her knees scraping the ground. “It’s not fair,” he breathed into her hair. Lightning agreed, though she couldn’t say so out loud. She laid her head against his collarbone, instead, and closed her eyes.

“Tell me about Academia,” she said finally. Hope chuckled, and the sound vibrated in his chest.

“Where should I start?” he asked.

“Anywhere.”

Hope let his eyes close and started talking, relishing in the warm weight of Lightning on his chest. The sun was at its zenith, and both of them could easily have dropped away into sleep. The sunlight was warm, the company good.

After finishing an absentminded list of New Town’s best takeout places, Hope grew somber. "I suppose you can't stay long?" He asked. Lightning nodded. “Hey Light,” he said, “I was thinking. You probably know me better than anyone.” Lightning lifted her head curiously. “I could tell you about anything. I mean, that’s strange, isn’t it? We only ever spent a few weeks together.”

“They were important weeks,” Lightning said.

A more pregnant silence settled over them. Hope’s fingers clasped and released something that wasn’t there. “I’m terrified,” he told her. “What if we’ve got the date of the fall wrong, and it comes down before we’re ready? Or I’ve made some stupid mistake in the designs they won’t discover before it's too late to fix?” He released a large breath. “It’s… all I’ve been able to think about, even though it's stupid.” Hope ran a hand through her hair, deep in thought. “But something _is_ going to go wrong, isn’t it? Something we can’t help.”

“Yes,” Lightning admitted. “I feel it. I don’t know how or why, yet. Maybe Serah and Noel will still find the solution.” She had to hold onto the hope that they would, lest she lose her resolve completely.

“And maybe they won’t,” Hope finished slowly. His breath hitched, and he pressed Lightning to his chest so the front of her breast plate dug into his flesh. He sat up, his mouth next to her jaw, his knee between her legs. Lightning wrapped her arms around him and fisted her hands in the back of his shirt. Hope’s breath was hot on her neck. “Say you’ll come back to me,” he whispered. His voice was ripe with a petulant stubbornness she recognized from so long ago, and she shivered.

“I can’t,” she told him.

He smoothed his hands down her back, holding her in place. “Then lie to me,” he said lowly, pressing up with his knee. Sensation struck, burned through her stomach and her legs. She gasped and moved closer, sliding up his leg until her plated thigh was pressed to his groin. Their breath was coming in short pants. Lightning rocked into him slowly, and his fingers slid under her armor to dig into her hips as he groaned.

“Oh,” she said when his teeth found her neck. Hope worked his leg against her, panting whenever hers pressed against him. “Oh, _Hope_ ,” she moaned. Already the rest of the world was engulfed in static.

“Say it,” he pleaded, holding her to his thigh until the pressure almost hurt.

“Yes,” Lightning whined desperately. Hope sighed sharply and ground against her roughly.

Lights burst behind her eyes, nerves buzzed, and her lips fastened to his as they rut against each other urgently, his tongue stroking the roof of her mouth, a hand on the back of her neck. When she thought she couldn’t stand another second, his movement finally stuttered and stopped, damp soaking into the front of his pants. They leaned back into the grass.

“I’m glad my clothes are magic,” Lightning said after a moment.

Hope choked and broke into laughter. “Oh, that’s not _fair_.”

She stood, then offered Hope a hand. “You’ll have to get payback when we see each other again,” she said, flushing as she made the implication.

“Yes.” Hope’s expression was peaceful, but resigned, and a flush spread all the way down his back. “I suppose you have to return to watching over humanity.” His head bowed slightly. “I won’t keep you.”

“Everything on this end depends on you, Hope.” Lightning said warmly. “You’re protecting everyone too.”

Hope took her hand and stood. “Everyone except you.” His voice shook, and he swallowed down the heat welling in his throat. “Until your return,” he said, laying a kiss on her palm. Then he pressed his lips to her forehead, both of them holding that pose with their eyes pressed closed. When they opened them, Lightning looked out again upon Valhalla.

“I love you,” he whispered to the empty clearing. He spent a minute staring at nothing, then returned to his bike. His projects were complete, but there was still more work to do before the final battle. He would find some way to keep busy.


End file.
